


Why Did You Call Me That?

by RandomAssCow



Series: Dreamnotfound Angst [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Death, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Oneshot, Prisoner Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Suicide, Tags Are Hard, dreamnotfound, george messes up, george visits dream, this made me sad to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomAssCow/pseuds/RandomAssCow
Summary: His words were draped in poison, a tone George had never heard from him. The words quickly died in George’s throat and he clawed at Dream’s wrist, he tried so desperately to breathe. The taller boy’s breath could be felt on his lips as his face grew closer. His head started to throb and his vision started to blur as he gazed into those cold green eyes.
Series: Dreamnotfound Angst [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141994
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Why Did You Call Me That?

Blood? Why is there so much blood? Is this normal?

Pain. So much pain. I’m used to the pain.

Tears? I’m crying? When do I ever cry?

Black. It’s gone black again. Like always

Dream’s feet hit the water, he was back. He fluttered his eyes open to see the familiarity of the obsidian room, his chest, his cauldron, his clock. He loved his clock. The sound of the lava sizzling and popping filled his ears; a sound that comforted him. His arms pulled his weak body out of the shallow water as memories made their way into his brain. Building the community house with Sapnap, laughing with Tommy, gambling with George. These memories always came first. He smiled at the thought of his friends, until, the other memories came. Blowing up the community house, smiling at the sound of Sapnap’s sobs, holding a knife to Tommy’s throat, Tommy holding a knife to his, dethroning George, George screaming at him until he lost his voice.

“No” he cried

“No, no, no, not those memories.” His voice raised to a scream.

“NOT THEM, NOT THE BAD ONES”

He choked on his words as tears poured down his cheeks and he clawed at his skin. No matter how many times he tried, they always came back. The memories that left him praying he’d stay dead, yet he never did. He’d run into the lava, welcoming the feeling of his flesh burning. He’d hold his head under the water until his brain felt like it was shattering. He’d watch his wrists bleed onto the obsidian. Then it would go black, then his brain would be empty, and then, he’d feel happy. Happy remembering the good things. He would always cherish the feeling of bliss. A feeling he only experienced after he would die; after he would kill himself. No feeling can last forever, and inevitably his brain would be flooded with negative memories, the voices would come back, and he’d be consumed by self-hatred.

It had been weeks since his last visitor. He didn’t mind not seeing people. He liked the isolation. He liked knowing he could lay on the floor and scream until his throat bled. He liked knowing his space could be neglected. He liked knowing he didn’t have to hide his arms that were littered with red-lines. He had always worn a mask; a metaphorical one and a literal one. The thought of people seeing his face gave him nearly as much anxiety as the thought of someone he cared about knowing he was a mess. He had always cared too much about everyone around him. Correction, he cared about their view of him; he needed them to like him enough that he could manipulate them. He truly was a monster.

* * *

Dream heard the flip of a lever from his spot on the cold floor. He knew that soon the lava would lower and someone would come across the bridge, yet he couldn’t be bothered to move. He closed his eyes and waited for a voice to call his name. Tommy’s most likely, if that were the case he would just tell him to go away. He heard the bridge stop, then retract.

“Dream?” A gentle voice spoke.

The sound hit Dream in the gut and his body tensed. He knew that voice, he loved that voice. He laughed with that voice. He cried with that voice. He shut his eyes tighter and clenched his jaw in hopes that it wouldn’t be real, that George wouldn’t be here. That maybe, just maybe he could be imagining it.  
“Dream” George spoke again. This time with more urgency.

A soft hand placed onto his shoulder causing his body to scrunch in on itself. It was real. George was here. Dream tried to reject the touch, to get away, but George only pulled him up into a seated position. With his hands on his shoulders, Dream was forced to meet George’s worried gaze. Those chocolate brown eyes that he loved, however, the comfort he received from gazing into them soon vanished. The brunette could see his face, his scar-coated face. His freckles that he was always a little too ashamed of. His eyes once a deep green now greyed and empty stared back at George; void of all emotion. Minutes passed, all while Dream just stared blankly at the shorter boy. He watched George’s worried expression silently until he spoke.  
“Clay” George sighed.

* * *

George watched with wide eyes as Dream’s emotionless face shifted to that of pure anger. His eyes became cold and dead as he stared at George. The next thing he felt was a strong hand grab the collar of his shirt and slam his back against the wall.

“What?” Dream growled.

His voice was low and raspy; it sent chills down George’s spine. Dream’s hand had now moved to the brunette’s throat and was squeezing hard enough to cause him a lack of air.  
“Clay” George gasped trying desperately to escape.

His hands were holding Dream’s wrist as he writhed and choked under his friend’s hold. His best friend’s. Dream only tightened his grasp as he moved closer to George.

“Why did you call me that?” Dream snapped.

His words were draped in poison, a tone George had never heard from him. The words quickly died in George’s throat and he clawed at Dream’s wrist, he tried so desperately to breathe. The taller boy’s breath could be felt on his lips as his face grew closer. His head started to throb and his vision started to blur as he gazed into those cold green eyes.

“Please” He choked out.

Dream released his grip and the weak boy fell to the floor, coughing. George looked up at Dream who only met his gaze with a blank expression before turning his back.

“Get out” He spit.

“Dream”

“Out”

George clawed at the floor as he desperately tried to get into a seated position. Dream only had his back turned and his fists clenched. It wasn’t long before he made his way towards the lava.

“Dream!” George screamed as the blonde turned towards George.

He spoke not a single word, he just gave George a sad smile before stepping back into the lava. George was crying now. He knew that because of what just happened because he was here, Dream wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t respawn. The brunette saw the death message appear only to hear a splash from behind him.

“Dream” he shouted

Scrambling to the floor to give the taller boy a hug.

* * *

A feeling of warmth consumed Dream the moment he got back, that was the first thing he noticed. The second was that everything was tinted orange. The third was that a strange but familiar boy was clinging onto him for dear life.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)  
> This isn't my best work but I'm pretty proud of it. I was considering making a series of angst one-shots because I like the suffering. Anyway, feel free to drop criticism if you actually read this.  
> Also pls give me angsty prompts.


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